


Call It What You Will

by Alexismobeal



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Bending, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexismobeal/pseuds/Alexismobeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- Drama School: Korra's in her last year at stage school, and would do anything to land the leading role in her final production.  Unfortunately she now has to compete with the enigmatic Asami Sato, whose name is on the building.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Good luck in there'.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first fic in this fandom and my first fic on AO3. I've been lurking for a while and I've loved everything I've read, so wanted to give something a go myself. I hope you like it. I currently don't have a beta, so I apologise for any mistakes that I may have missed. If anyone knows a good one, please direct them my way. 
> 
> This is rated M for eventual mature content, but is currently very safe for wee eyes. There's a lot of exposition in this chap, so please stick with. Cheers for reading!

 

Korra rapped the rolled pages of her script impatiently against her knee. She didn’t like waiting, never had. Most things came to her easily. If she ever needed to learn a new skill or technique, she’d master it in a matter of minutes, if she needed to learn lines to a three act play, she’d lift them from the page and have them nestled safely in her memory after one reading, and when she wanted something, she tended to get it, promptly.

But since moving to Republic City’s most illustrious Stage School to rub shoulders with the best young actors of her generation, things hadn’t come so easily. Buses. Buses never ran on time, and trains that appeared to be indelibly marked on the timetable seemed to often and inexplicably drop off the face of the earth.

Tenzin, her tutor, had suggested that perhaps it was about time Korra learned to drive, and Korra had wholeheartedly agreed, as it was becoming increasingly obvious she couldn’t rely on other people to get her to class on time. Korra had also wholeheartedly agreed when Tenzin had made the executive decision to never let her near another gearbox again. A decision which left her here, on a bus heading (hopefully) in the general direction of the biggest audition of her life, 7 minutes before it was about to start.

Horns blared around the bus as cars vied for position in the mid-town traffic. This bus wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Korra sighed and blew an errant hair out of her eyes, resting her head against the window next to her, deflated.

Normally a role like this wouldn’t appeal to Korra. There was no fighting, no blood, no gut-wrenching violence or heartbreaking romances, but after two weeks of meticulous preparation, and many a discussion with Tenzin, Korra had grown fonder and fonder of the character as the pages went by. This would be something different for her, a challenge, and she relished the prospect. She also wouldn’t be required to interpretive dance, Korra was thankful for that.

Korra wanted this part. No, scratch that, she needed this part. This is what people expected of her, this was why she made the move to Republic City all those years ago. To say the weight of expectation was a heavy one would be an understatement, but it was a weight she could bear. She’d grown up knowing that acting would be her destiny.

Both her father and mother had been mover stars in Republic City, and stars of the stage before that. Then Korra came along and that all changed. Her parents moved back to their home in the South when her mother fell pregnant, and that's where Korra had been born. Her birth hadn’t stopped her parents from taking to the stage in local productions though, the acting bug couldn't be exorcised so easily, and Korra had been raised amongst the theatre folk and the stage hands.

When she was old enough to talk she landed a role at the local theatre, and by the time she was seven she had managed to convince her parents to let her audition for small roles in toothpaste or cereal commercials and the like.

In her teens she grew to love the stage, and spent all her hours after school rehearsing for the next performance, or reading through the works of her favourite contemporary playwrights. Wherever she went and whatever the role, everyone always said the same thing, Korra was sure to be a star. It was in her blood.

When she was sixteen, and with her parents’ permission, she left the South for Republic City to dedicate herself to the craft. Korra knew when she turned eighteen she’d be applying to study at the prestigious Yasuko Sato Stage School, and anyone who shone there was guaranteed to have an agent upon graduation, and a starring role soon after. Anyone worth their salt applied there, and only the very best were given a place. Korra needed to be at the top of her game when the audition came, she knew that, and the only way of ensuring that was to fully commit herself. That’s how she came to study under Tenzin.

Tenzin had been a friend of her parents’ from the very beginning of their careers, but instead of taking the jump to movers, he had stayed firmly put in theatre. Tenzin was completely method, he didn’t explore a character, he became them. That had always been something Korra had struggled with, really nailing down a character, understanding them to the very core of her being. She’d never had the patience for it. She’d get a feel for them and then just run with it.

To Korra, acting should be exhilarating, from the moment of discovery when reading those first few pages to the final curtain call. Korra didn’t have time for much deep thinking or soul searching. She lived the character, purely in the moment. She was impulsive and Korra knew that up until that point in her acting career, all her success had been a result of her raw talent. She was a great actress, there was no doubt about that, but to get into stage school, she needed to grow, she needed to be more.

After a long conversation with Tonraq, her father, Tenzin agreed to tutor Korra and in under a week she was unpacking the smallest and dearest trinkets of her life from home into a modest sized room at Tenzin’s family home in Republic City. Tenzin and his wife Pema had been kind enough to offer Korra lodging in their home and there she stayed, along with the couple’s four children, Jinora, Meelo, Ikki, and their newborn Rohan.

Her and Tenzin’s relationship had been rather laboured at first, Tenzin was wound up tight, and a stickler for his techniques. His idea of acting involved a lot less acting than Korra’s did, and a lot more spiritual self discovery. But over time and after more than a few heated arguments, Korra found herself making progress under Tenzin’s tutelage. Eventually after two years of training, Korra was ready for her stage school audition, which she was granted upon her first application.

Evidently, Tenzin’s named held a lot of weight in the community, and word of Korra being his next protege had spread far and wide in the two years she’d been studying under him. However, Tenzin had been quick to assure Korra that she had been considered on her own merit, not his. Korra wasn’t so sure, but she had thanked Tenzin for his kindness all the same.

After a successful audition, and an unexpectedly wild celebratory party with her now very dear surrogate family, Korra begun her three year stint at the ‘Sato Stage’. Although her time spent studying with Tenzin was over, he had very generously requested Korra stay on with the family as their lodger, at the vehement request of the children of course, he’d been sure to add. Pema had simply smiled knowingly at her husband whilst telling Korra that she would never wear out her welcome.

Two years passed at the Sato Stage, two tough years. It had been a while since Korra had truly rubbed shoulders with other actors, and jumping back into the fray was a little intimidating, especially since every single one of her classmates were so gifted. Korra had grown so used to being the gifted one, the wheat amongst the chaff, the diamond in the rough. Now she was just a speck of wheat, in well, a bowl of cereal.

But she worked hard and by the end of her first year landed the leading role in her class’ production of The Crucible, one of Korra’s favourite plays. There's always so much shouting, what's not to like? She’d scored the highest in class, scoring well in her modules too, and continued to find success throughout her second year, landing the role of Juror 8 in Twelve Angry Men. It was a challenge and not Korra’s typical role, but she met the challenge head on and again found success.

For the third and final year at the Academy things would work a little differently. It was make or break for the students as both final year classes would come together and perform publicly to agents, friends, family, and the press, and it was pretty much guaranteed that if you managed to claim the leading role, you’d have your name in lights before you can say ‘Harmonic Convergence’. Last year’s lead went to Kurvira, an actress from the Earth Kingdom, and despite her less than sunny disposition, she had still become the darling of the press well before opening night.

So, Korra needed to get to her audition. To put it lightly, her life depended on it. She craned her neck to see if the traffic ahead of her was moving but found herself growling in irritation. Gridlock as far as the eye could see.

With a panicked glance at her watch, Korra threw her bag over her shoulder, jumped up, and bounded down the length of the bus. Seeing her coming in the rear view mirror, the driver opened the doors of the stranded vehicle, and with a quick, ‘Thaaaanks!’, Korra was off the bus and weaving between cars to the pavement. ‘Scuse me, comin’ through - places to be - woah dude it’s not like you’re going anywhere - thanks!’.

After four years in Republic City, Korra knew its streets like the back of her hand. Sadly the back of her hand was currently telling her that even if she ran full pelt all the way to the Academy, she’d still be late for her audition. At least now she wasn’t stuck on the stationary bus she could take the most direct route to her destination, so Korra began to navigate the alleys and back streets of Republic City, her breath short, and her heart pumping out of her chest.

Korra groaned as she realised her route would take her through the market at the height of the lunch time rush. She rounded the corner and was engulfed in a cacophony of market criers and fragrant sizzles from the various food stalls, surrounded by office workers looking for a more satisfactory lunch than their office cafeteria could provide.

She could only glance longingly as she passed her favourite street food stall, a sudden uncomfortable emptiness settling in her stomach, mourning what might have been. But she persevered through the crowds, sometimes ducking under stalls if her path wasn’t clear, or leaping over tables when she ran out of options, much to the chagrin of many a stall owner.

It seemed like a lifetime, but Korra had finally crossed the market, and had been spat out just a block away from her destination. She glanced at her watch, she was only a few minutes behind. Her heart lifted, what’s a few minutes? Surely they couldn’t hold that against her. With a renewed determination Korra picked up speed again and within minutes was running up the steps of the ornately fronted, gothic building.

Taking steps two at a time, Korra climbed the three floors to the audition studio. A desperate look at the clock above the door that led to the studio told her she was 4 and a half minutes late. _Shit_.

Dashing through the door, she skidded to a halt in front of two people sat amongst the bleachers facing the studio floor. With her hands on her knees, Korra struggled to find the breath to speak, ‘I’m sorry-’ she panted, she looked up and was met with two pairs of eyes. One pair dancing with amusement, the other pair unable to conceal their frustration.

‘There was … a thing, a traffic thing. I hope I’m not-’

‘Ahem’. A voice cleared behind her. Korra turned on her heel to find a third pair of eyes; emerald this time and narrowed with annoyance.

Korra faltered. It was Asami, Asami Sato. The Asami Sato. She swallowed. _I’m screwed_. ‘-Late’, she finished weakly. The fates were most certainly conspiring against her. The traffic, the market, now this! This was surely the final nail in her coffin.

Asami Sato was a picture of elegance. Her lustrous dark hair was loose and tumbled from her shoulders, like oil paint on canvas. She was dressed in her staple black on black on black, because, you know, she’s a serious actor, with a hint of a red satin framing her neckline. A muscle ticked in her jaw, as she pursed her impossibly red lips together.

On a different day Korra would think her beautiful, today she was beautifully terrifying. ‘No,’ Asami offered, with a frown, ‘You’re just interrupting’. Her voice was low and matter-of-fact, with an unmistakable hint of ‘my-father-will-hear-about-this’. _Goodbye acting career!_

‘Korra,’ Chancellor Reiko spoke up with an impatient sigh, ‘Please wait outside. Miss Sato here is still to do her monologue and I think she’d much prefer to do so unaccompanied by your laboured breathing’.

Varrick let out an amused guffaw, ‘Ha! That would be a completely different kind of show’. Reiko grimaced, Korra winced, Asami smirked…? Did she smirk? If she did it was a momentary lapse as she was now back to wishing Korra dead. Korra met Asami’s eyes once again. Yes, definitely dead.

‘I’m so sorry, I er,’ Korra almost tumbled over her feet as she stumbled over her words, hurrying to the door of the studio. ‘I’m-’.

‘Leaving?’ asked Asami, pointedly, with one impeccably shaped eyebrow raised.

‘Exactly that!’ Korra yelped, frantically struggling with the door handle. ‘I...’ to Korra’s relief the door clicked open and she practically fell through it with a strained, ‘Bye!’.

The next five minutes was populated with frequent knee tapping, nail biting, and hyperventilating. Ten minutes prior, being late for her audition had seemed like the worst thing in the world that could have possibly happened. But oh no, there was definitely worse. Because Asami Sato existed; the daughter of Hiroshi Sato, founder and president of the Yasuko Sato Stage School. Daughter of Yasuko Sato herself. Yes, this was most certainly worse.

Up until that moment Korra hadn’t spared much of a thought for the Sato heir. Yes, Asami was in her year, but they had never been in a class together. From what Korra had been told, the other girl had never really craved the limelight like Korra knew she was more than guilty of doing herself. If Korra’s father was the founder of Sato Stage, she’d demand every part going.

If ever Asami wanted a leading role, she could have it, everyone knew. A conversation with her father, one word with a tutor; that's all it took. But she’d always taken smaller roles in the productions Korra had seen her star in, and the older girl seemed perfectly content with that. Asami had a beautiful and poised subtlety on stage and didn’t need to be in the spotlight to draw attention.

Unfortunately a conversation with her father or one word with Chancellor Reiko about what had happened today and Korra’s chances of getting the all important lead role could end in an instant, just because Asami felt like offloading.

The sound of the studio door opening was enough to pull Korra from her catastrophising. ‘Korra?’ _She knows my name, that can only be a bad thing._ ‘You’re up’. Without a second glance, Asami swung a black satchel over her shoulder and made for the stairs.

Just as she reached the top she paused, her hand still on the hand rail. She seemed to hesitate but when she turned back to meet Korra’s eyes her precise features were still as stoic as ever. ‘Good luck in there’, she offered with a noncommittal shrug, then quickly descended the stairs and disappeared out of sight.

Korra sighed, and breathed deeply. She needed to put the Asami incident to the back of her mind. She’d prepared for weeks for this audition, she couldn’t let a chance event jeopardise it. She owed it to Tenzin, her parents, and to everyone who'd put their belief in her. Most importantly, she owed it to herself.

Getting to her feet, Korra neatened her windswept hair and tugged at her collar. With one last deep breath she steeled herself and entered the studio.

‘Name, role, act and scene please.’

‘Korra, reading for Viola. Twelfth Night, Act Two, Scene Two’.


	2. 'Ready to fall helplessly in love with me?'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra spends her weekend with friends and family in an attempt to forget her disastrous audition but has to face the music on Monday when the cast list is made public.

'Korra! Korra are you in there?' Korra buried her head deeper into her pillow. She was being insolent, she knew that, but the need to sulk was overwhelming and after the day’s events, she felt she was more than a little entitled to her own personal pity party.

'Come on Korra, it can't have gone that badly. You don't have a bad audition in you.' Korra flinched as her door handle clicked open. 'Mom made your favourite-oh'. Korra's cheeks were streaked with tears and her eyes were puffy and red. She sighed loudly at the intrusion and rolled over, content with staring at the off-white walls of her bedroom. Sure, it was only one audition, and sure the actual reading went fine, better than fine really, but Korra couldn’t help but feel as though she’d fucked up. Majorly. She’d prepared eighteen years for that audition, but the planets had chosen that very moment to align and wreak havoc. Buses, markets, Satos. Bad things always came in threes.

Jinora quietly stepped into the room and clicked the door closed behind her. 'Go away, squirt,' Korra grumbled.

The younger girl gently shook her head and simply smiled affectionately. She quietly observed Korra for a moment. Her back was to Jinora as she was curled up in bed, the rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life. The older girl had become tangled in her sheets, her boots still firmly affixed to her feet, with a severe case of bed head. Her bag of books hadn't made it as far as the rest of her, and its contents lay strewn across the bedroom floor, where it had been disregarded and forgotten about hours earlier. If Korra was trying to make it look as if she didn't give a damn, she wasn't doing a great job. Jinora silently padded across the room, hopping over the books in her path, and settled carefully on the bed beside Korra. She could see the girl's shoulders tense at the sudden additional weight on the mattress but didn't hold back.

A soft hand settled on Korra's arm, and a small pointy chin that belonged to an incredibly irritating teenage girl prodded her shoulder. Korra almost smiled. Almost. A soft kiss pressed to her temple. 'Korra, it's not a family dinner without you. Come on'.

 

~~~

 

Korra helped herself to another bowl of noodles. After the audition she'd come straight home, forgoing lunch, and had then decided that hibernation would be the best option as suppressing and bottling up emotion was always the most sensible course of action. As an actress it was practically a professional obligation.

'So you were hungry after all,' said Pema with a teasing smile as Korra grumbled something unintelligible into her food and continued eating.

Jinora grinned conspiratorially from across the table as she piled more red chilies into her bowl. 'Even the most stubborn of creatures come around, eventually.’

'Hey,’ Korra’s spluttered through a mouthful of noodles, ‘I'm not stubborn!'

Tenzin laughed skeptically as he sipped at his tea. 'Korra, have you heard the saying, you can lead a horse to water?'

She paused, lowering her chopsticks. 'Yes, but you can't make it drink.’ The protégé eyed her tutor suspiciously. ‘Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?'

Tenzin raised a solitary eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a small mischievous smile . 'I'm pretty sure the horse in that particular story was named Korra'.

'Ha ha. Tenzin, you're hilarious. Remind me, how is this helping to make me feel better?'

Korra was scowling now. Leaning across the table, Tenzin calmly retrieved the teapot and began to refill Pema’s cup. 'Who do hate more at this moment, me or Ms Sato?' 

Korra huffed in exasperation as Jinora giggled to her right. The younger girl received a poke in the ribs for her troubles. 'You Tenzin, hands down.'

'See?’ he said, with a small smile and warm eyes, ‘I'll always put you first dear. Tea?’

Korra met Tenzin’s eyes and instantly felt like an idiot. Her words caught in her throat. He understood and he was trying, just like he always did. ‘Yes, please….and thank you’. She meant it.

A tug at her sleeve drew her eyes from Tenzin’s. Ikki, Pema and Tenzin’s second eldest, was staring up at her wide eyed. 'Is she pretty Korra?'

Korra blinked. Ikki had a reputation of being a little away with the faeries, obviously tonight was no exception. ‘Who?'

'Asami.’ Ikki tugged again, as if it were obvious. ‘Is she pretty?'

‘Well, she was...’  Korra’s brow furrowed.  Of course Asami was pretty, she was her mother’s daughter.  Pretty didn’t really do her justice.  But it hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of Korra’s mind that afternoon.  The whole acting career nosediving in front of her eyes thing had been a little distracting.  As had the scornful looks from those emerald eyes that had her stomach to do flip flops, the arch of Asami’s eyebrow that was severe enough to cause her palpitations, and the pursing of her ruby lips that had caused an uncertain dread to settle deep in her stomach.  Those could be considered distracting too.  Asami Sato was, '...Stunning.’

Ikki gasped, clapping her hands together excitedly. ‘Really?!’

 _I said that out loud, awesome_.  It wasn’t exactly a lie, Asami was stunning, objectively speaking.  ‘I mean, I wasn't really looking,’ Korra stuttered, ‘I was mostly terrified but, yeah, she's certainly benefited from good genes.'

Ikki sighed, her chin resting in her hand, her eyes glazing over, mystified.  'Her mommy was beautiful'.

'Yes she was dear,’ Pema nodded with a sad smile, reaching to her right and taking Ikki’s hand.  Asami’s mother Yasuko had been a huge star in the early movers.  Her charcoal hair and ivory skin wonderfully complimented the black and white hues of the decade, as did her grace.  She was an icon, and she was still a household name, even though she’d passed away thirteen years previous.  

After Asami’s birth, illness took Yasuko, and all that was left of her legacy were her movers, and of course, Asami herself.  After her death, Hiroshi, Yasuko’s husband and Asami’s father, founded the Yasuko Sato Stage School in his late wife’s honour, with the fortune he’d made from his engineering business, Future Industries.  Asami had enrolled as soon as she was old enough.

'Tell her Meelo says hi!'  Her tutor’s second youngest piped up from across the table, his chest puffed out dramatically, elbows stuck out and hands at his hips.

Korra couldn’t help but grin as quiet chuckles spread across the table. ‘'I will little guy, don't worry. You will be on her radar, no doubt.  I'll put in a good word for you.'

'And me!' shouted Rohan from his booster chair.

Jinora cast her eyes over the two boys, sending a small smirk in Korra’s direction.  'Well, well, the competition is hotting up.'

Tenzin put his tea cup down and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.  'A Sato isn't good enough for my boys,’ he snorted, disparagingly.  Korra knew Tenzin and Hiroshi hadn’t always seen eye to eye.  She hadn’t known that his sometime irrational distaste spread to completely hypothetical and outlandish situations.

Pema shook her head, 'Tenzin...' she warned, softly.

'And a Sato won't be enough to stop you from getting this role Korra. Varrick might be an eccentric, but he's not an idiot. He'll cast the best person for the role, and that person is you.'

Korra couldn’t help but smile.  Tenzin was right.  Today had been a bit of a disaster but this was an audition, an audition to play a role and today she showed she was the best woman for the job, she was sure of it, late appearance or no late appearance.  Asami had never shown a desire to take a leading role before, and hell, she didn’t even know if Asami had been reading for Viola.  She could have been reading for Olivia, or Orsino for all she knew. She needed to relax.  She’d get the role she deserved, whether that be Viola or even Malvolio...although, Viola was far more preferable.

'Also,’ Jinora nudged Korra with her elbow, ‘No one can wax lyrical whilst dressed as a 16th century gentleman like you can'.

The family chuckled together again as Korra went back to grumbling into her noodles.  '16th century lady dressed as a 16th century gentleman, Jinora, it's a very complex role'.

~~~

The weekend came and went.  Korra had decided that spending some time with Bolin and Opal would help her forget about the casting announcement due that Monday, on Saturday they took a lazy stroll down to the amusements.

The weather was balmy and Korra had foolishly offered to take the kids off of Tenzin and Pema’s hands for the afternoon.  They were adults after all, and three adults could handle four kids, no problem.  And besides, Jinora didn’t exactly count as a kid anymore.  In fact, she’d argued that she probably had more sense than Korra would ever have, and definitely more patience.  Korra stuck her tongue out in response.  ‘So three adults, four kids it is then,’ the eldest sibling had teased.  

‘Hilarious, just like your father’, Korra had retorted, through a mouthful of cotton candy.

Sunday was spent watching cheesy old B Movers in Korra’s room and gorging themselves on shrimp puffs and cream pans, thankfully kid free this time.  Mako had joined them and aided Korra in attempting to make Bolin and Opal as uncomfortable around each other as humanly possible.  A pastime they enjoyed together regularly.

Mako and Korra had met through Bolin, when Bolin had invited Korra to hang out after class.  Bolin was one of Varrick’s ‘projects’.  As an orphan, he’d received a full scholarship to Sato Stage, and proved to be a very wise investment on Varrick’s part.  Bolin was versatile, sure, he could play serious, he could play the action star, but his real talent lay in comedy.  Which is why he was a shoe in for Feste, without a doubt.  

Bolin met Opal through Mako, his brother, who had enrolled into the Republic City Police Academy the year before Bolin joined Sato Stage.  Opal was the niece of Mako’s commanding officer.  They’d met at an official function for friends and family, and the rest, as they say, was history. Opal laughed at Bolin’s jokes, and Bolin swooned when Opal smiled.  They were, quite frankly, far too adorable for their own good, and needed to be stopped.

It was well past midnight when Korra eventually kicked the brothers out.  Opal had fallen asleep in Korra’s bed a few hours earlier, well into the fifth mover of their marathon, and she’d looked so peaceful the threesome had decided to leave her be.  

They tip-toed their way across the landing, down the stairs, into the hallway, and out into the muggy midnight streets of Republic City.  ‘You can’t keep my girlfriend forever you know’, Bolin whispered.

Korra shrugged, nonchalantly.  ‘I can try’.

Mako grinned tiredly at her.  ‘Bye Korra, and good luck for tomorrow.’ He put a supportive hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.  ‘You wont need it, but good luck anyway’.

‘Thanks Mako,’ she said, bringing her friend into a warm hug.  She’d needed them that weekend, and her friends had come through.  Living in the South, she could never have imagined having friends such as these; friends her age, friends with different passions and talents, friends who cared so much.  All Korra had known from a young age was the theatre, and even after spending two years in Republic City studying with Tenzin, she’d never really strayed much further than Narooks.  Sure, she didn’t have a tonne of friends even now, but the friends she’d made over the last two years were irreplaceable, and she truly was thankful for each and every one of them.

The wind was forced from her when a second pair of arms enveloped her.  ‘I love you guys’.

‘We love you too Bolin’.

‘Yeah,’ Korra winced, ‘What Mako said’.

~~~

The cast list was to be posted in the common room before lunch, whilst lecturer run studio time was in session.  Suffice to say, Korra struggled to concentrate all morning, her stomach churning with a sense of dread and anticipation.  Zhu Li Moon had been running the session and had been scrutinising Korra with narrowed eyes and sideways glances ever since she'd arrived and it made her nervous.  Ms Moon was a woman of few words, but even by her standards she had been quiet that morning.  Korra didn’t like it, not one bit.

The common room was alive with chatter when Korra finally found her way there at lunchtime.  Zhu Li had kept her after class to aggressively and succinctly discuss the merits of Chekhov.

She instantly felt her classmate's eyes fall on her as she entered, but quickly found Bolin’s friendly green orbs from across the room.  They were filled with sadness.  He smiled weakly. _Shit.  Did he not get Feste?  Did I not get Viola?_

Korra’s heart sank.  She couldn’t move.  It was as if her feet were stuck in a thick mud.  She couldn’t look at the list, she didn’t want to.  It was better not knowing anything rather than knowing years of hard work might have faded into a meaningless oblivion because an accident on a highway out of town had caused a gridlock in the city centre on the day of the most important audition of her life.  Yes, not knowing was better.  Ignorance was most certainly bliss. But for how long?

Bolin started to make his way across to her.   _Nope_.   Korra tried to shift into reverse but she’d never been good at stick.  More students began to filter in behind her, blocking her escape and before she knew it her hand was in Bolin’s, his thumb playing across her knuckles soothingly.  ‘Hey Kor’.  

She couldn't find his eyes again, she didn't want to see that sadness again.  'You got Feste right?’  She knew.  He nodded, but he couldn’t smile.  Bolin had landed the best role of his acting career so far, but her friend’s concern lay with her.  He truly was remarkable.  

She squeezed his hand.  ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she spoke, quietly.  ‘You’re going to be amazing’.

‘And so are you. You got Olivia,’ Korra’s stomach sank.  Her must have told a similar story, as Bolin quickly added, ‘I know it’s not you wanted, but-‘

‘Who got Viola?’, she asked, flatly.  But she already knew the answer to her question, she'd known before she asked it.

Before Bolin could answer, another cold voice to Korra’s left did it for him.  ‘Guess’.  

Asami Sato’s slender figure was draped elegantly against the wall to the left of the doorframe, arms crossed across her chest, dejectedly.  Her hair was loose, green eyes dark, burning with a quiet fury.  She smiled ruefully at Korra, and raised a cynical eyebrow.  ‘Ready to fall helplessly in love with me?’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know, in Twelfth Night, Viola dresses as her brother Sebastian (who she believes is dead) after a shipwreck and Olivia falls in love with Viola, thinking she's a man. Obviously they both end up with dudes, it was written in the early 17th century, but it provides a nice vehicle for Korrasami, which you will have more of soon.
> 
> Again, apologies for any mistakes, they're all mine. Currently working beta-less, and perhaps a little too sleep deprived. Thank you to all the people who commented here and elsewhere, and for all the lovely kudos. Hope you've enjoyed this one.


	3. ‘Impulsive?  I’d never have guessed.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami tries to make peace with Korra before having a stern conversation with her father.

_‘Ready to fall hopelessly in love with me?’_

__  
  


Asami watched as her younger girl’s face dropped, her stomach going with it.  She’d been waiting for Korra to arrive in the common room since she’d first seen the cast list, waiting with a burgeoning sense of dread.

 

When Asami had started Sato Stage her and her father had made an agreement; no favouritism, no special treatment, and no roles she didn’t deserve.  Up until that day, her father had kept his promise.  This wreaked of Hiroshi Sato, as if people didn’t dislike her enough.

 

Korra met Asami’s gaze with the most dazzling set of azure eyes. _Wow, she’s beautiful._  Those blue orbs were wide with hurt and a vulnerability that caused a lump to form in Asami’s throat.  She’d caused this, however unintentionally, but she found herself desperately wanting to somehow make Korra think otherwise.  Hence the terrible joke, which was offered in an attempt to make light of the situation and dissipate some of Asami’s debilitating awkwardness, but actually had only gone to getting her in hot water with the other girl.   _Good work, ‘Sami.  Real smooth._

 

Before she could blink Korra had spun on her heel and retreated back through the common room door.  Asami could only sigh, her brows furrowed together, as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.   _Idiot_.   

 

A throat cleared and Asami looked up to see the man who had been stood with Korra gesturing animatedly towards the door his friend had just left through. Asami rolled her eyes, this guy was a clown.  ‘What?’ she said, with more venom than she’d intended.  

 

The guy’s thick eyebrows shot up and he held his hands up in retreat.  His name began with a B, Asami was pretty sure, but finding out the B's accompanying letters wasn’t really at the top of her list of priorities.  Shrugging, he said,  ‘I dunno, I just er, you know, think you should go after her.’   

 

Yes, she should.  But the probability of that blowing up in her face was well, not slim.  So as is normal for a Sato, she feigned her usual nonchalance.  Asami Sato didn’t give a shit, no sir.  ‘She’s _your_ friend’.

 

He shrugged again, ‘I know,’ a small grin played across his features, ‘But, she’s your problem now’.  Asami felt her eyes roll on their own accord. This guy really was a clown.

 

But as much as she was pained to admit it, this really was her problem.  The whole damn thing was her problem, and had been for the entirety of her existence.  She’d not want something, her dad would give it to her anyway, and people hated her for it.  It was a well defined set of events, a set of events that had no right to have such a huge impact on someone as talented, _and beautiful_ , as Korra.

 

Asami knew exactly what to do.  She’d tell Korra she didn’t want the part, and ask Varrick to do a re-cast.  It was simple really.  She’d step down, Korra would have the spotlight back, and Asami would go back to being in the wings; she liked it there, people didn’t resent her there.   

 

‘Korra!’ Asami’s voice echoed around the empty corridor, reverberating off of the steel lockers, and finding its way back to her.  ‘Korra wait!’ she called again, carefully feeling for the most appropriate words, as the last eight words she’d said to the girl had been far from tactful.  To Asami’s surprise Korra did what she’d asked, she waited.  ‘I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.’ _That wasn’t too awful._

 

The younger girl shrugged but didn’t turn to face her.  Asami saw her shoulders rise and fall as Korra let out a long, defeated sigh. ‘It’s fine,’ she spoke, quietly.  Somehow, Asami didn’t quite believe her.  For an actress, Korra wasn’t really great at keeping a lid on her emotions, something Asami was a pro at.  Funny how things like that worked out.

 

‘No, it’s not’.  Asami crossed the distance between her and Korra, quickly and quietly, whilst hoping not to startle the girl and cause her to scarper.  ‘Look,’ Korra visibly flinched at Asami’s abrupt closeness, turning round suddenly to meet Asami’s emerald green eyes, eyes Asami hoped were filled with honesty and empathy.  After all, Asami was almost as much a victim of her father’s agenda as Korra was.  Although Asami was sure Korra and the rest of the student body probably wouldn’t see it that way.  ‘I know you don’t know me, but you have to know that this isn’t what I wanted.’  It was the truth and she prayed to the spirits that Korra would believe her.

 

‘Sure,’ the shorter girl replied, with apathetic shrug and a voice laced with sarcasm.  Korra’s eyes had grown dark and unforgiving, her jaw set and her strong shoulders squared.  If it was possible, Korra was even more beautiful when she was angry.  Sometimes life wasn’t fair.  But Asami would take a silver lining wherever she could find it.  If this was to be the end of her, at least she’d enjoyed the view.

 

‘Korra,’ Asami took a step closer, close enough to reach out and touch.  ‘I promise you.’  Sometimes it was difficult for other people to understand the concept, that Asami Sato was telling the truth.  She could have everything at Sato Stage, all she needed to do was say the words, but chose to take a back seat in every production, despite her father’s wishes.  They’d argue over it of course, but in the end Asami would fix her father with a stern gaze, and he’d appease her.  

 

The reality was that she wasn’t the best.  She knew it.  Of course, she could hold her own, she deserved her place at the highly regarded school, but she wasn’t a Kurvira or a Korra, and she was content with that.  She didn’t want to be a star, and she certainly didn’t need to be.  However, she got the distinct impression that Korra needed to be.  Thankfully for for the younger girl, she also had the acting chops.

 

‘You’re right, I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you,’ Korra spat through gritted teeth.  

 

Asami couldn’t help but smile at the brazen passion rolling off of the shorter girl, and of course it only went to making other girl angrier.  It was dumb, and lacking her normal control but it couldn’t be helped. Korra had certainly made an impression on Asami the day of her audition, when she’d careened into the studio, disheveled and out of breath.  She'd been like a deer in headlights that day, endearingly so, not that Asami would have given her an inch, but now, now she was something else entirely and it made Asami’s breath catch in her chest in wonderment.  Now, she was so close she could spy the flush of Korra’s skin, rising from her neck in irritation and spreading like an inkblot through water across her cheeks.   _You’re incorrigible, ‘Sami._

__  
  


She’d seen Korra on stage twice since being at Sato School, and both times had been a revelation.  Her first year’s performance was exquisite.  An emotional rollercoaster, filled with an abundance of energy and youthful exuberance.  Her second had been more refined, mature, her growth through the year had made her almost unrecognisable from her girl who’d taken centre stage the year previous.  However, through both performance there had been a constant. Her passion, it had been palpable, almost tangible, and being as close to Korra as she was now, Asami could almost feel that same passion undulating from the blue-eyed girl in waves.  It was beautiful, terrifyingly beautiful.  She shook her head, a smile still present on her lips.  ‘I wouldn’t expect you to,’ she said, laying a tentative hand on the other girl’s shoulder.

 

Her soft touch was shrugged off with an impatient huff.  ‘Stop, okay?  Just stop.  Stop being understanding.  You don’t know me, you don’t know how hard I worked for this.  I gave up everything to come to Republic City, to come to this school, to pursue theatre.  This, this was just made for you’.

 

Asami’s hand dropped to her side, as Korra’s words cut her deep, deeper than she’d like to admit.  She’d hoped maybe she could make Korra understand.  Surely, Korra, of all people _would_ understand. Korra, who felt the expectation of the many on her shoulders.  Korra, the daughter of two highly acclaimed mover stars.  Korra, Tenzin’s protege.  But she didn’t.  Korra thought of Asami the same way everyone else seemed to.  ‘That’s what you think?  I get it, I mean, why would you think anything else?  Everything just fell in my lap right?’ Asami felt an uncharacteristic heat rise on her cheeks.

 

Korra nodded defiantly and crossed her arms with a pout, her bottom lip jutting out slightly.  ‘Pretty much’.

 

‘I thought maybe you were different’  An unexpected disappointment filled her chest, and weighed heavy in her heart. _Get it together, she’s the same as everyone else.  What were you expecting?_

 

Korra puffed her chest out a little, a brash smile spreading across her features. ‘I am different.’

 

‘No,’ Asami said cooly. _I really hoped you were_. ‘You’re not.’  Her eyes met Korra’s one last time, and Asami hoped and prayed they wouldn’t betray her to the vast and icey blue ocean they found there. 

 

‘Goodbye Korra.’ Her voice was quiet, and final, as she turned on her heel and strode towards the double doors at the end of the corridor.  She needed to get out of there, she couldn’t be there any longer.  What was the use?  Asami needed to put space between her and Korra, space between her and the whole fucking school.  Asami needed to speak with her father.

 

x

 

She took a moment to straighten her collar, and tuck a dark, unruly lock of hair anxiously behind her ear.  With a deep breath she knocked on the wooden doorframe and poked her head around it.  There sat Hiroshi Sato, brow furrowed over the blue prints that adorned his desk, deep in thought.  He didn’t look up, too lost in wherever his mind had taken him.  He looked tired, Asami noted, and the grey that not long ago only peppered his dark hair seemed to be slowly but surely making ground, up his temples and through the longer strands atop his head; strands which were uncharacteristically unkept.  ‘Dad?’ she knocked again, and at the sound of his daughter’s voice, Hiroshi was torn from the blueprints, and back to reality.  ‘Do you have a moment?’

 

‘Of course, come in.’ Her father gestured for Asami to sit, so she settled into the chair across from where he sat at his desk.  He smiled and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes a little as he went.  ‘How was class?  Did you find out about casting?’

 

Asami clasped her hands together, and suddenly felt the urge to gaze intently at her thumbs. ‘That’s actually why I’m here,’ she spoke quietly, summoning the courage to spare another glance at her father.  His brow was even more knotted together now, concern etched across familiar features. It would have been comforting if it wasn’t for the fact that Asami knew her father was most likely already up to speed with her situation, because he was the cause of it.

 

‘Oh?  Did you not get what you hoped for?’ Hiroshi Sato perched his round spectacles back onto his nose, ‘I can speak to Varrick.’ _What's he up to?_

 

‘No dad, I didn’t.  I got the lead.’

 

‘That’s wonderful dear!’ _Oh, that’s it, he’s feigning innocence._

 

‘I didn’t deserve it,’ Asami added, through gritted teeth, her frustration with her father mounting.

 

‘Of course you did, dear.’  Hiroshi’s eyes were back on his blue prints, his voice vacant.

 

The young Sato balled her fists, willing the anger out of her body.  This wasn’t just something her father could brush under the carpet that easily.  ‘I’m not the best person there, Dad’.

 

Asami’s thoughts went to Korra, beautifully passionate, devastatingly hurtful Korra.  But what had the poor girl been meant to think, how else was she supposed to feel?  Asami didn’t blame her, she couldn’t, yet she could still hear Korra’s words, and she could still feel their sting.

 

Hiroshi shook his head and sighed sadly, with a smile a parent reserves only for their child.  ‘Asami, just because you don’t think-’

 

‘No. You’ve seen her, you know how good she is’.

 

‘Darling, you might not see your own talent, but others can.’

 

‘Are you telling me you didn’t speak to Raiko?’ Asami fixed her father with her best, I’m-your-daughter-and-I-know-when-you’re-bullshitting-me glare.

 

Hiroshi hastily went back to rustling through blueprint and papers, a rare blush rising in his cheeks.  Asami knew she’d been right, 20 years together tends to do that for you.  With a deflated sigh she shook her head and brought her knuckles to rest against her forehead, resigned.  ‘You are unbelievable.’

 

‘You’re upset over being cast as the lead in a Sato Stage production, and I’m the unbelievable one?’

 

‘Yes! There’s a girl out there who has worked her whole life for this.  This should have been hers and we’ve stood in the way of that, simply because we’re in a position to.’  

 

‘Why is the work you’ve put in of smaller value than someone else’s?’

 

‘You know why dad,’ Asami fixed her father with her most pointed glare.  She was tired, tired of this.  She’d worked hard the past two years at Sato Stage, not to make the grade, but to win the trust of her fellow students.  At school, as a teenager, to be a Sato was to be likened to a member of the one of the royal families of old.  She was the heir of Hiroshi Sato, engineer extraordinaire, and daughter of Kasuko Sato, the exquisitely beautiful yet tragic mover star.  Asami was the epitome of cool.  When she threw parties, classmates would fight for invitations, guest lists were a who’s who of the youth of Republic City, and Asami would receive extravagant gifts in exchange for the chance to explore the corridors of the Sato mansion. But now, now things were different.  

 

At Sato Stage, things weren’t so easy.  Her classmates were suspicious of her, and understandably so.  Her father had wanted her there, so she’d received a place, whether she’d deserved it or not.  She deserved it alright, but it didn’t stop other people telling her she didn’t, and it didn’t mean she deserved to be judged on a different scorecard to everyone else.

 

‘No, I don’t believe I do,’ Hiroshi said, in disbelief, blueprints now forgotten. It took a lot to ruffle Hirosi Sato, but her father was passed ruffled, he was irate. ‘This is what your mother would have wanted!’

 

And there it was.  He said it.  He couldn’t help himself really, and Asami wasn’t surprised.  In fact, she was expecting it, but it still didn’t make hearing it any easier.  ‘You have no right to say that,’ she snapped.

 

‘Yes, I do.  Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for the both of you.’  She’d had this conversation with her father an incalculable number of times, and it was always the same.  Hiroshi wanted his daughter to live where his wife couldn’t.  

 

‘But at whose expense, Dad?’

 

‘I don’t care Asami, your place is on that stage.’

 

‘And it doesn’t matter to you that people only think I got there because you’re my father?’

 

‘Other people don’t matter Asami!’  Hiroshi tore his glasses from atop of his nose and cast them down onto his desk, rising suddenly from his chair to pace indignantly across his office.  He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and came to glare vehemently out of a window which facing out onto the streets of Republic City.

 

Asami sighed, she hated seeing her father this way, she couldn’t bear it.  And yet she couldn’t bear another year of sideways glances and distrustful whisperings at Sato Stage.  She also didn’t know whether she could bear another face to face bout with an angry Korra, however lovely the girl looked when she was red in the face. ‘Dad...’ She appealed, softly now.

 

But Hiroshi didn’t turn to meet her gaze.  Instead, he was fixated on something across the square.  His eyes were tired and glazed over, and now in the harsh light of day Asami could finally see how truly tired her father was.  His skin was paler than she’d remembered, and the circles around his eyes were darker.  He looked weary, and Asami’s heart felt a little heavier than it had a moment before.  

 

Her father sighed audibly as he shook his head ever so slightly.  It was the tiniest of movements but it was there, and Asami knew it was tempered with regret.  ‘When your mother was pregnant with you, I remember, we’d spoken about her giving up work, but she was adamant that she wanted to work right up until the point where she couldn’t.  She’d come home with her ankles swollen and sore, her knees aching and her back putting her through nine circles of hell, but she adored every moment of it.  There was nothing she loved more,’ he smiled ruefully, and stole a glance back at his daughter, a living memory of his wife.  ‘Apart from you.’  Asami felt like she’d be punched in the stomach.  All the air left her lungs and and was replaced with an overwhelming sense of guilt.   ‘She said you were worth it.  She was so excited to meet you, to watch you grow.  She spoke about taking you to the theatre for the first time.  She’d even picked out the play’.

 

The younger Sato nodded, sadly.  ‘The Canterville Ghost.’  Asami knew the play well, although she’d never seen it.  Her father had never taken her, he couldn’t without her mother, and Asami had never found the strength to see a production on her own.

 

‘She wanted this for you Asami.  She was only your age when you were born, when you look to your future, what do you see?’

 

‘I don't know, Dad.’   _Not this._  But the truth would devastate her father.

 

Her father’s face softened as he finally left his station at the window and came round to kneel in front of his daughter, gazing up into green eyes, eyes that once belonged to his wife.  He smiled earnestly.  ‘I understand that you feel sympathy for this other girl-’

 

‘Her name’s Korra.’

 

‘Korra, yes.  She’s a talent, there’s no doubt, but she’s not your mother’s daughter,’ he reached forward and gently took one of Asami’s hands that were clenched against her lap.  ‘And for your conscience, I never asked Raiko to favour you’.

 

‘You didn’t?’ Asami asked doubtfully.

 

‘No, he’s just a smart man,’ he said, a matter-of-factly, his face betraying nothing.  

 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, ‘Who values his job?’  

 

Hiroshi shook his head.  ‘Who values your ability.’

 

Asami squirmed out of her father’s grasp and rose from the chair in which she was sitting.  She strode to the book shelves, running a finger across the spines of the classics that took pride of place in her father’s office.  ‘Dad… it doesn’t feel right.’

 

She heard her him laugh sadly.  ‘Your mother was humble too.’

 

‘This is different’.

 

A firm pair of hands settle on her shoulders, and a soft kiss was pressed against the top of her head.  ‘She would be so proud of you, of what you’ve accomplished.’ His voice was quiet, but close, and heavy with emotion.

 

‘Please, Dad.’ She pleaded, as her voice finally broke.

 

‘Do what she couldn’t, Asami. Live.’  

  
  


x

 

It was late and her father still wasn’t home from his office in which she’d left him.  The sun had retreated hours before, and Asami sat languidly, flicking through TV channels, her eyes glazed over, hoping to find something that would rescue her from her sombre mood.  She’d take anything right about now, but when you hit the higher numbers and you’ve still not found something that’s caught your attention, you know it's a one way street.

 

She never liked talking about her mother, especially not with her father.  But it always came back to her, always.  She was inescapable.  It was painful for both of them, but more and more recently it seemed like her father’s favourite subject.  He’d admitted to her the year previous that sometimes he’d forget her mother’s face, and have to scramble, panicked, to find a photo to appease his failing memory.  The next she'd pulled out her favourite photo of her mother and had it framed for his desk, and he'd nodded his thanks.

 

Someone told Asami once that when you recall a face or an event, you’re simply remembering the last time you remembered it, which she thought was horrifically depressing.  And if you were upset the previous time you remembered it, the next time you cast your mind back the memory would be tainted.  If you were happier when you previously remembered something, next time you looked back, the memory would seem a happier one than it had been originally. She thought at the time about how easy it must be for memories to be become distorted and perverted, and in a way, she was glad she didn’t have any memories of her mother, because although not ever having the chance to know her mother was often overwhelmingly painful, having known her and forgetting her, Asami didn’t think she could bear that.

 

A knock at the door brought her out of her spiralling thoughts.  It was a bit late for visitors but in truth Asami was grateful for the distraction.  She dragged herself from off of her sofa and padded barefoot into the hallway of the cavernous townhouse, past her study door, and to the front door.  With a quick glance through the spyhole, to make sure she wasn’t about to be accosted by machiavellian bandits, she spied a short, fidgety brunette, illuminated by the street lamp across the way.  

 

Asami groaned and let her head fall gently against the beautifully carved wood.  It was almost midnight and Korra was at her door.  Angry and infuriating Korra.  No one knocked at someone’s door in the middle of the night to pick a fight did they?  Well, she was sure some people did.  Like Triads and associates of Triads, but Asami was pretty sure Korra wasn’t either of those.  No, Korra was here to make right.  

 

Asami released the various locks her father had installed on the lavish front door, and gently swung it open, revealing a smaller and incredibly tense young woman.

 

‘Hi,’ Korra smiled sheepishly, with a small wave.  ‘I er...’ she quickly jammed her hands back into her jacket pockets as her eyes fought to look anywhere but at Asami.  ‘I wanted to come by and-’

 

Asami crossed her arms and casually leant up against the door frame, a bemused smirk pulling at her lips.  ‘What can I do for you Korra?’

 

‘Well... uh, this is a big house.’

 

‘This is the small one.’  

 

‘Oh. Sorry.’

 

The taller girl shrugged stoically.  ‘There’s no need to be sorry.’

 

Korra exhaled loudly, and finally found the courage to find Asami’s eyes with her own.  What Asami saw there was earnest, and she felt her mood lift.  ‘Actually Asami, there is’.  Korra was struggling to find the words, but it seemed they found her eventually.  ‘I was an idiot before. I didn’t mean to be, but, apparently I can be a little impulsive sometimes.’

 

‘Impulsive?  I’d never have guessed.’  Asami was smiling now, grinning even, but Korra was none the wiser.  The younger girls eyes had wandered back to her shoes.

 

‘What I said was completely out of line.  I was rude’.

 

‘Did Tenzin send you?’

 

‘Are you kidding me?  Tenzin was ready to put a price on Varrick’s head!’  Asami laughed warmly at how Korra could soar from humble to impassioned in the space of two sentences. Korra grinned back, this time carefree.  ‘I wanted to come.  You’re right, I don’t know you, and if you say you never asked for this, then who am I to hold it against you?  And who am I to say you’re lying?’

 

Asami gave a small bow of the head, ‘How enlightened of you.’

 

‘Well, we have to work together right?’ She shifted a little nervously, from one foot to the other,  ‘If this is how things are going to be now…?’  Korra was asking if Asami was accepting the part.  The whole evening she’d spent deliberating, grappling with her own conscience, listening to what her heart and mind were saying.  But she still hadn’t come any closer to being able to answer the question.  But now it had been posed to her in actuality, by Korra, she knew immediately what she wanted.  It was clear.

 

‘It is.  It is how things are going to be.’

 

Korra couldn’t hide the flash of disappointment that coloured her features.  As was previously noted, for an actress, Korra wasn’t the best at keeping up appearances. But she didn’t shout, and she didn’t moan, she simply smiled sadly.  It was awkward, but she smiled.  ‘Cool, well, I er,’ Korra jerked a thumb behind her, turning to make a quick escape. ‘That’s all I really...I should be goin-’

 

Before Korra could scurry away Asami laid a gentle hand upon her arm.  She needed her to understand.  Korra had accepted the way things were, but for them to work, on and off stage, she needed to understand why too.

 

This time Korra didn’t dismiss her touch, and instead stopped abruptly at the contact and turned to back to face her, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.  ‘Do you have a moment?’ Asami asked. ‘I want to show you something.’

 

Korra seemed to temporarily lose all brain function, but managed a wordless nod, and let Asami drag her across the threshold and inside the townhouse.

 

‘Great,’ Asami grinned.  ‘Come on in.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly and foremost, I'd like to point out I love Bolin. Who doesn't, right? Well, right now, Asami doesn't. But I promise you, not for long! Secondly, sorry for the delay in update, it's been crazy y'all. I've held a little back in hope that I get some more writing done this weekend. I'm on a flight to the States on Sunday and will be working all week so fingers crossed I get to update before then. And thirdly, thank you all for reading!


	4. Is that your way of telling me you think I'm beautiful?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami lets Korra in on a secret, in hope of offering her some counsel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry this has been such a long time coming. I got selected to play American Football my national team, so that kind of took over. Then I smashed my laptop screen :( And now I've finally set up my desktop, woop! I have about 5 weeks break from football now, so hopefully I'll be updating this regularly. This is a short one, as it's really just an extension of the last chapter. Let me know what you think, and thanks for sticking with it! Apologies for any errors, this goes out un-beta'd.

Korra couldn't pick her jaw up off the lacquered floor.  ‘So, you said this was the small one?’

 

Asami chanced a small look over her shoulder and couldn’t help but smile at the very out of place looking southerner in her home, eyes wide and slack jawed.  ‘Yes, we have a larger residence just outside of the city’.  For someone who was supposed to be an acting prodigy, Korra was terrible at masking what she was really feeling, Asami had ascertained.  Her eyes probably betrayed her the most, not that Asami minded.  Korra had the most intriguing eyes.

 

‘Do you stay there often?’  Korra asked, eyes studying the intricate, gilded cornicing that bordered the hallway ceiling.

 

‘No, it’s too big for one person.’  Korra frowned and cast her eyes back to her guide who was now walking well ahead of her. Didn’t Asami live with her father?

 

The two girls made their way through the high ceilinged hallway and up a set of stairs to the right.  Portraits of varying ages adorned the walls.  All men, Korra noted, with dark hair and amber eyes.  Some wore spectacles, some wore ascots, but all sat against backgrounds of industry. A portrait at the top of the stairs was that of a young Hiroshi Sato.  He was sat in a grand workshop, in front of an old fashioned looking Satomobile, and a easel hung with blueprints to his right.  A small, but warm smile pulled at the corner of his lips.  He looked young and he looked happy. ‘I can’t imagine what that’s like, being somewhere so quiet. Living with Tenzin’s family for the last four years, I’ve grown accustomed to company.’

 

Asami’s voice floated down to Korra as she mused, ‘Hmm, that must be nice’. Korra found herself frowning again.  Asami was lonely. She’d never imagined Asami to be lonely, in fact she remembered on a number of occasions being jealous of Asami and her obvious popularity. Maybe things weren’t, in fact, as obvious as Korra had once thought.   She almost went on to say that sometimes she craved a little peace and quiet, but caught herself and decided against it.  Yes, sometimes having four hyperactive adopted siblings could be a little hard work, but she wouldn’t change them for the world.  Certainly not this one.  As grand as this Sato Residence was, it felt like a house, not a home.  

 

At  the top of the stairs there was another dimly lit corridor with dark wooden walls, high ceilings and long, ornate hand woven carpets that lined the floors.  Asami stopped as she reached the second door to her right.   She fished out an old key from her jacket pocket and turned it in the lock.  With a click the door opened, spilling a warm, golden light out into the hallway. With a small smile, the older girl beckoned for Korra to follow her inside.  

  
  


Korra audibly gasped as she stepped across the threshold into an aladdin’s cave of a room.  

 

‘What is this place?’.

 

Asami grinned at Korra’s very evident wonderment.  ‘This is my study.’  

 

There was certainly no doubt about that.  A desk sat to the back of the room, strewn with blueprints, tools, discarded pieces of wire and stationary, and a top of it sat a grand old radio with gleaming brass knobs and a mahogany body.

 

‘Does it work?’  Korra asked.

 

‘It didn’t until yesterday’.  Korra raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and Asami smiled proudly, flicking the switch on the back of the radio’s casing.  The radio sprung to life and raspy, warm jazz filled the small study.  ‘It took me a little longer than expected, I was a missing a few pieces and had to order them in, but I got it done’.  

 

Asami could have sworn she caught Korra mouth a small _wow_ as the southerner turned and gestured to the many bookshelves that lined  the walls of the room. ‘And what’s all this?’ Korra asked.

 

The older girl smiled proudly and perched  on the corner of her desk. Instead of being piled high with books, Asami’s shelves were lined with trinkets, models and sculptures.  Some seemed to have moving parts, and Korra had to resist reaching out and touching a particularly shiny gauntlet that rested on a shelf a little to her right.

 

‘Experiments, projects.  I like to make things.  I design them, and then build them, and then see if they work.  If they don’t I start again, if they do, I start on something else.’  

 

‘These are incredible, Asami.’ Korra looked at her again, with those expressive azure eyes.  It had been a long time since she’d shown her work to anyone, and a very long time since anyone  had given her praise for it.  Her father firmly believed that her hobby was a waste of time.  She wasn’t accomplishing anything, so it wasn’t worth while.  But this was what truly excited her.  The puzzles, the problem solving, the rush and euphoria of making a new discovery.  The intricacies of thermodynamics, and the quest to find the simplest solution. She loved every moment she spent in this room.  ‘This is what your father does, right, with Future Industries?’  Korra  asked. 

 

‘Yes, he’s an engineer.’  Asami noticed Korra looking intently at a small glass bulb that sat atop a small ebony stand and hopped off of the desk.  ‘Here, let me show you how that works.’  She reached over the shorter girl’s shoulder and took the dainty item from the shelf.  ‘It’s a light mill,’ Asami explained, excitement dancing in her emerald eyes.  ‘Inside the bulb is a partial vacuum, and if you shine a light on the black and white vanes inside, they’ll turn on the spindle.  Like this’.  Asami strode over to her desk once more and held the bulb up to the reading lamp.  This time, Korra definitely mouthed a _wow_ and Asami most definitely felt her cheeks colour.  She smiled to herself.  She never got to share this, with anyone.  Her father was disinterested, and her friends were, well, non-existent.  ‘It’s neat, huh?’

 

‘It’s...’ Korra screwed up her face, squinting at the light mill, and leant in for a better look, ‘...amazing’.

 

‘It’s thermodynamics.  Which is amazing, I love it’.  Korra was grinning at her now, and Asami felt the first flutterings of a butterfly’s wings in her stomach.  

 

‘I didn’t know you like this stuff’.

 

‘I love it.  It’s...’  Asami felt her gaze shift from Korra, and settled on the small photo frame, stood upon her desk, right next to where Korra’s hands were resting.  ‘...It’s what I want’.  Asami swallowed resolutely.  ‘Which is why I brought you here’.

 

Korra’s brow furrowed in confusion, ‘I don’t understand’.

 

The older girl sighed, shaking her head slightly, causing her hair to fall gently from across her shoulders. ‘I know what it’s like to love something, and spend every waking hour thinking about it.  Every day you have working to be the best at it, only to be told you can’t, it’s not for you, it’s for someone else.   _You_ , have to do _this_.’ Asami gently laid a hand upon Korra’s.  When the other girl didn’t pull away, she gave the hand a small squeeze. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time fighting that. It’s exhausting.  And ultimately, you end more unhappy, because you don’t have what you want, and you don’t allow yourself to enjoy what’s given to you.   You are a very, _very_ talented actress Korra.  You got a lead role.  Sure, it wasn’t the one you were hoping for, but take it.  Make it yours.  Blow me off the _fucking_ stage like I know you can.  Just imagine the headlines’.  

 

Korra didn’t meet Asami’s eyes immediately.  Instead, her eyes were fixed resolutely upon their joined hands.  Silence seemed to hang over the pair, for what felt like an eternity to Asami.    ‘Okay’, the smaller girl said, almost as  a whisper.  

 

Asami sought out Korra’s eyes hopefully, looking for confirmation. ‘Okay?’

 

Blue eyes eventually met green, and Korra grinned sheepishly.  ‘I said okay didn’t I?’

 

The darker haired girl felt an irresistible pull at the corner of her lips.  ‘Well then, I look forward to working with you’.  And it was the truth.  The energy Asami  felt when Korra was around was palpable.  The younger girl was infuriating, and Asami often didn’t know whether she wanted to punch something or grin like an idiot when Korra was around. She was currently doing the latter quite enthusiastically, and both girls desperately fought to look anywhere but their clasped hands.

 

There was another moment of silence, which was eventually broken when Korra noticed the small photo frame that was sat next to her on the desk.  Carefully withdrawing her hand from Asami’s, she picked it up curiously, and smiled sadly once she recognised the woman in the photo.  ‘Is this your mother?’  It was a question Korra already knew the answer too, but Asami nodded her answer all the same.  ‘You take after her’.

 

‘A lot of people say that’.

 

Korra cradled the photo in her hands for a moment longer, before carefully placing it back down upon the desk.  ‘She’s beautiful,’ she said, thoughtfully.

 

Asami’s eyebrow quirked, as a smirk broke out across her face.  ‘Is that your way of telling me you think I’m beautiful?’

 

‘W-what?! I-, er-’  Korra’s cheeks began to flush as she stumbled over her words, and Asami felt a chuckle escape her.  This girl was a dork.  An adorable dork.

 

‘It’s okay, Korra, I’m teasing.  But you are going to have to get used to being insatiably attracted to me’.

 

Korra recovered quickly.  ‘That’s gonna be hard work’.

 

Grinning, the taller girl shook her head admonishingly and hopped off of her desk. ‘Oh shut up’

 

‘Seriously, that is going to push me to my limit,’ Korra continued.

 

‘I invite you into my home, show you my most sacred possessions...’

 

‘I’m really going to have to get into the zone.’  Korra grinned lopsidedly, and all Asami could do was roll her eyes.  

 

‘Come on, let’s go.  There’s ice cream downstairs.  And then I’m calling you a cab’.

 

Korra followed Asami out of her study and back into the dimly lit hallway.  ‘You really think you can get rid of me that easily?’

  
Asami grabbed Korra’s wrist and began to drag her down the portrait lined staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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